What Happened To Forever?
by nothing-chan
Summary: He looks at you, his whole frame shuttering in fear. You reach out for him, your own hand trembling. He flinches away, fright spilled across his small features and you want to die knowing he is so afraid because of you. One-shot. post-WW2


_(see end for author's notes :3c)_

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"So it is settled. The European Coal and Steel Union is in effect," All of the countries sigh gratefully, wanting to escape the humid room and its oppressing awkward atmosphere. As all of the others stand up to leave, you stay, staring at the messy pile of papers across from you. Your fingers twitch at the sight of the scattered business papers and food wrappers, wanting nothing more than to reach across and shift them into order, yelling at the person responsible to throw their things away. You do not move, however, even as he gets up and leaves his litter discarded on the table.

He moves hurriedly, like a nervous and anxious bee that has not visited a flower in a long while, that had all its flowers stolen from it long ago. His fingers dance as he scurries to pick up his papers, and you notice how he avoids your eyes. His fingers do not even dare go into your line of vision, scuttling away when he felt they reached out to far. If it had been any normal meeting, he would be bouncing across the table to question what was for lunch, his tan skin tickling past your hard marble frame, sending soft warmth resonating through your whole body. Silky hair pressing into your shoulder as he bumped into you carelessly, smiling up now and again as he chattered about art, food, or whatever came to his mind.

But that was not what today was and he was not the Italy you knew before. You had not seen that smile, the smile you had taken for granted all those years, in what seemed like an eternity and the rock in your chest aches just imagining it.

_"Hey Germany," Italy said, his back pressed to a cobble-stoned wall, vines curling up the ancient rock. "Do you think we'll be together forever?" You turned to him, a soft sound of utter disbelief ghosting out of your thin lips. He sat, staring up at the sky, no sign of jovial teasing or malice on his face, not as if you had suspected there would be any._

_ "Forever?" You questioned, the word sounding foreign and disgusting coming out in your stern voice, nothing like what it sounded rolling out of his pure and innocent mouth. Your heart paned softly at the site of his gold smiling eyes, gazing up so intently at the endless blue sky and you balled your hand into a fist at your side, uprooting a poor innocent dandelion in the process._

_ "Yes! Forever!" Italy laughed carelessly, as if the word had no weight or meaning to it. "I don't think I could bear living without you or Japan. I would probably die," You knew he was over-exaggerating, he always did, but the notion of the word 'dying' made you want to punch a hole into the wall you were resting against. You said nothing, simply staring at his happily swimming eyes in a long hurt gaze he did not seem to notice._

_ "So don't ever leave me alone, okay?" He turned to you, those eyes that are liquid gold focused only on you and you do not think you have ever seen anything more beautiful in your whole life. The quant towns of your home, the rolling hills of Italy, the dancing cherry blossoms of Japan, nothing could compare to those eyes and that smile. Italy's lips stretched slowly, his petal mouth forming into that smile so angelic only the devil could conjure up something so perfect. You twisted the now mushed up dandelion in between your fingers around before you dropped it and whispered,_

_ "Okay."_

You feel your lips part and you draw in a shuddering breath, unable to keep still any longer. He's frozen in front of you now, his papers messily gathered into his thin and helpless arms.

"G-Germany?" Italy says your name this time but it's not friendly and dreamy like it was before; it's frightened and broken, as if he's walking on sharp razor blades. You look up and you must have been crying because his face quivers and his little pale mouth drops a bit in surprise. You do not think you have ever cried in front of him before, in fact you cannot think of the last time you cried in front of anyone. You were a rock, a statue, a soldier, who felt no pain and had no feelings for a frail Italian country that was merely a boy with no real drive in life.

He used to make you so mad, aggravated to the point of pure blinding rage where you would yell in German and flail your arms wildly above your head. Italy would cry and apologize and by dinner you would be sitting across from each other as if nothing had happened, listening and discussing about trifles as you ate your large delicious meal. You wished you could remember why he made you so angry. Now you cannot even imagine speaking a harsh word to such a creature, so virginal and accepting. You cannot believe you let such precious moments slip by out of pure impatience and greed. You would pay anything to have that back, even just for a moment. You would pay any sum in the world, conquer any continent, commit any crime; you would do anything to just have a few of those moments back. Moments when he laughed and you scolded, when he smiled and you frowned down at him. Moments when you should have taken his hand and told him that you would be together forever, even if it meant you had to build a rocket to outer space and find a whole new galaxy to live in. No matter what, you would be with him forever and ever.

He's even more frightened now, his hands trembling, making papers scatter across the ground. You vaguely recognize his voice calling for someone to help, and you realize he's afraid of you. You would be afraid of you too, if you had done what you did to him to yourself.

"No," You didn't mean to shout, but it is a habit and it makes him jump, utter terror across his small features. "No Italy please," The begging nature of the fragment doesn't suit your voice at all and it comes out sounding more like a command than a request. Still, a ghost of his subservience to you remains and he stops moving his lips, still except for the trembling of his shoulders. You do not really know what to do now, this is the first time you have seen him in months and gotten him to look you in the eye. Your face feels wet and sticky and you know your eyes are bloodshot and your hair is a mess. You're scary and you know Italy remembers this broken Germany, not the strong handsome one he knew so well before. Italy does not remember the times you had laughed with him, or had let him loop his arm in yours as you strolled through the streets. He only remembers the monster that had destroyed his villages, shot his people, committed such atrocities it made you shudder merely thinking of them.

The table you had sat at was fairly thin, so you reach across slowly toward him, your hand quaking like a frightened dog. He's close now, his shoulder barely centimeters away. You can almost taste the tangerine smell of his skin, the smooth unblemished texture of his arms. Italy's liquid eyes are locked on your hand, his whole body in a trance, until your fingers are about to brush the collar of his coat. He flinches back, yelping in such a way you feel as though you might vomit if you were to hear it again. He stares at your outstretched hand, his body coiled in a way you have never seen it in before. It looks wrong on him, Italy was not supposed to be so positioned and ready for an attack, Italy was not supposed to be like this.

He backs away slowly, sobs racking up his frame as he bites his quivering lip. Countries are creeping into the scene, worried at the noises filtering from the room. You have the sudden urge to violently claw at France as he makes an absurd allegation of attack, but no one moves and merely stares at Italy, waiting for him to answer their questions. The weight of the world is on his shoulders and you're not sure if he knows it.

The words are on the tip of his tongue. He has been thinking the same thing you have. He's been remembering it all like you have. Italy's been remembering the endless blue sky and the vine-covered wall, how foolish of you to think he would have forgot, he is not that clueless. Tears are falling out of both of your eyes now and you know everyone is staring but you want to yell at him not to say it. You want to jump across the table and rip at his clothing and hair and touch his face until he promises he will not ever say it. But you do not and you watch as his soft mouth opens and he says it.

"What happened to forever?"

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Well, this is a bit old but I still like it so I decided to upload it.

Being the die hard GerIta girl I am, I was devastated to learn of the state of Germany and Italy's relationship after the war. Not to savvy on such things? Let me summarize.

Not. Good.

There was still much resentment over Italy's betrayal and the war crimes Germany had committed. They 'reunited' briefly during the Cold War to form the Cold and Steel Union but were still not on very good terms until much much later.

Sniffles lightly and crawls into a cave of ice cream, attempting to study without turning everything into some sort of Hetalia angst.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and give me constructive criticism, praise, random conversation. I enjoy everything you say (most of the time) Ahahahaha~

Ciao


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